


Love Binds All

by Cjanewright



Series: Hope Springs Forward Series [2]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/M, Sorry Not Sorry, an exploration of 'what if michael were raised by the coven', and the romantic chemistry of, millory, will also contain smut, will contain dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cjanewright/pseuds/Cjanewright
Summary: With the timeline changed, for better or worse, Mallory will discover the consequences to her intervention. Things seem promising at first, but nothing is what it seems, especially where Michael Goode is concerned.Something wicked this way comes.





	1. Chapter 1

She gasped, **_screaming_** as her lungs burned fire, when she emerged from the water. Her hands gripped the rim of the bathtub for purchase as she pulled herself up. Her body quaked from the prolonged oxygen deprivation and unshakable fear.

Mallory was shocked to see her mother burst through the bathroom door. The tall, willowy woman peeked around the room for what could have caused her daughter distress. On finding nothing, she shook her head, “What the hell is wrong with you! Screaming bloody murder, giving me a heart attack for no damn reason… is that blood on your face?”

The girl wrapped her arms around her shivering, naked body. She closed her eyes, trying to reorient herself to her current environment. Her head was spinning with all the memories. “What year is it?”

“Are you really asking me what _year_ it is, Mallory? Is this part of your devil worship? Or did you go soft in the head?” her mother coldly attacked. “I want you to leave. Your father and I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care where you go. You’re not staying here.”

“Mom,” Mallory sucked in a steadying breath to quietly but firmly say, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say this to you… but _go fuck yourself_.”

Her mother stormed off with an obstinate and offended scoff, leaving Mallory to pull herself together on her own. It felt satisfying to finally express her true feelings to that venomous woman. All her life, long before she showed any signs of supernatural gifts, she’d endured passive aggressive snips at her mother’s hands. In the old lifetime, she’d left this house without a word. She had been timid, quiet, and unconfident thanks to her mother’s constant criticism. She didn’t hate her mother, but she had never stood up for herself either. This felt like a long-needed exhalation.

The young witch stood from the bathtub, wrapping a towel around her body for warmth. She padded around her childhood home to her room. She found her old phone and confirmed that she was in 2016, two years prior the original apocalypse. Her intervention in Michael’s life had taken place sometime in 2003. That means he’d lived 12 years now under Cordelia’s roof, if all things went well.

A reminder popped up on her phone. >>Appointment at witch school; 9 am tomorrow<< She pinpointed exactly _when_ she was. Tomorrow will be the first time she meets Cordelia Goode and decides to move into the academy.

Her fingers twitched around the phone. She didn't feel ready.

* * *

 

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous. He’s a _boy_. He should have been with his brother warlocks, not raised in a witch coven. You had no right to hide him from us, Cordelia.” High Chancellor Ariel sat at the center of the table, directly across from Cordelia.

“Thank you for your verification of his anatomy.” The supreme witch quirked a brow coupled with an amused smile. Myrtle bristled at the warlock’s disrespect beside her. Cordelia smoothly said, “He is my son. On the contrary, I had every goddamn right.”

“Not your son by blood, not by our reports,” Behold interjected.

“Adopted or not, he is _mine_. And I won’t sit here any longer while you try to tell me what I should do with my son.” Cordelia stood from the conference table in the warlock’s underground den.

Ariel reiterated, “Cordelia, wait. I meant what I said. He must feel out of place with your coven. The lone boy in a house of women. If he were here, he would have comrades. Boys his own age, going through exactly what he is. At least consider it.”

“Michael is free to do as he chooses, and he loves his coven. If you attempt to contact him without my approval again, I will end all of you with just my pinky. Are we clear?” Her threat, although delivered coolly and with an unflappable smile, was laced with barbed wire.

The men shifted uncomfortably. They knew they were outmatched by far.

Cordelia and Myrtle excused themselves, making an exit from the warlock’s domain. Once they were a safe distance, Myrtle gave a long-winded sigh, “What a waste of a trip.”

“I needed to see what they know – which is nothing.”

The wild-haired woman waved her hand dismissively, “Those warlocks wouldn’t know their cocks from a magic wand. I guarantee you they would have taken Michael for their mythical alpha.” She scoffed, “Absurd men.”

The Supreme fell silent as she pondered what Myrtle said. She’s right. They would have made the bid for the warlock alpha. The old note flashed through her mind. _Do not trust him to the warlocks_. What else would they have done?

Cordelia slipped on her sunglasses as they approached their car. “Michael has always been powerful, but he’s been getting so much stronger lately.”

“Hm, yes. It’s admittedly worrying for any man to have so much power.”

She opens the passenger seat door. “He loves us. I know he does, but do you think… maybe there’s something wrong with him? Maybe _I’m_ blinded by my love for him.”

Just as Cordelia had been blinded by her love of her former husband once. During that time, her physical blindness had given her sight. Michael had still been a child, more specifically a prepubescent, mostly protected from the darkness of the times.

When she’d touched Michael’s hands, she had one crystalline, disjointed vision. Children dressed in white, a black goat with snakes inside, a man with expansive, white wings, and the whispered words ‘ _God loves you’_. The images were almost comical caricatures of biblical symbolism, on par with a child’s understanding of the bible. She could only surmise that it was Michael’s dream, not that she could understand what any of it means.

“My dear, that I cannot answer. He’s committed some disturbing acts over the years,” Myrtle slid her hand along the steering wheel in contemplation, “as he has many good. It is difficult to say where he stands. There is one thing I do know.”

Attention undivided on her mentor, she paused for the answer.

Myrtle turned on the engine. There was a certain fatalistic sobriety in her distant stare.

“I would hate to be his enemy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together* I still haven't decided how this story will end. for now, let's enjoy the ride.
> 
> btw I changed the canon timeline to suit my story. btw, btw Michael's last name was changed per Cordelia's adoption of him.
> 
> Lemme know what you guys think below c:


	2. Chapter 2

“Maybe we can be your new home,” Cordelia warmly offered, a smile curling at her lips, “Would you like that?”

Despite going through the motions, she was overjoyed to relive this moment again. This was when she joined her sisters, found a true home in her new friends. It touched her heart. Mallory nodded, “Very much.”

As Cordelia led her on tour through the house, Mallory mulled over how, actually, _nothing_ seems to have changed. They passed by several witches that she recognized as the newer coven members. The house was still vibrant, warm with positive energy. Maybe Cordelia had killed Michael at some point?

She almost gasped when she saw Myrtle leading a lesson with Zoe. How was Myrtle still here? Was the threat of the apocalypse looming?

Cordelia held a hand up to an elegant portrait of Queenie. “This was one of our most beloved council members. Her gifts had been unique, her strength unparalleled, and I…” the Supreme trailed off, guilt and sadness written on her face. “She’s missed dearly every day. Excuse me. Feel free to explore on your own. This is your home now, Mallory.”

Mallory nodded, trying to keep her true reaction from surfacing. What the fuck. If Michael was alive, wouldn’t he have rescued Queenie from the hotel by now? She was still trying to piece together what could have changed in the timeline when she felt the heavy weight of eyes on her. Her skin prickled as she turned her head.

He lounged on the floor in midst of the other studying witches, a thick open book in his lap. His golden curls perfectly framed his face, a halfway point between his childhood mop and the long waves of that cursed future. He was tastefully dressed in all black, in tune with the converged fashion sense of the coven. He looked every bit the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Fear spiked in her blood. She’d left a viper in her home. How could she be so stupid. Her heart pounded in her ears.

He was staring right at her.

“Don’t bother. That’s Cordelia’s son, which roughly translates into ‘prude as fuck’.”

Mallory flinched at the interruption to her focus, startled by the witch bitch’s presence. “Madison,” she gasped, unable to contain her shock. She bit her tongue to keep from asking how she’s still alive.

“You know me from my movies?” the blonde lit up, obviously pleased with herself.

Instead of answering, she glanced back to Michael, who had returned to his book. “What do you know about him?”

“He’s a twisted, little freak. Probably gay since he didn’t let me blow him.”

“So, he never did anything good for you?” she (not so) subtly asked, trying to dig for more information.

Madison raised a brow at the strangely worded question. “No. Not that I ever needed him to. If you really want a good fuck, I’d try any one of the lesbians. If you see another hot blonde guy, you should make a move on him. Kyle’s a great fuck when he’s not totally whipped by Zoe.”

Dead-pan expression, she flatly said, “Thanks, Madison. I’ll keep that in mind.” Does that mean Madison never died in the first place? Her eyes slid closed as she fought off a migraine, “Do you know where I’ll be staying? I had a long drive and I want to rest.”

All she wanted was to go to her own room to sit and think, but she couldn’t claim the empty room on the end of the east hall. With a roll of her eyes, Madison led her through the house. Relief flooded her when she reached her old room. At least that will stay the same. With mumbled thanks, she entered and closed the door behind her.

The room was empty besides the bare furniture. The curtains were drawn, casting it into darkness as well. The bed looks the same, clean white sheets already made like they’d been when she’d moved in during her previous timeline. She dropped onto it like dead weight, the spring creaking in resistance.

Eyes closed, her mind spun with all the information she has so far. One change, and everything has been inverted. She suspected, based on Madison’s shallowness, that she had never died. Or at least, hadn’t died a second time. She’ll need to map out the new timeline piece by piece, all while determining what exactly her sympathy for the devil had achieved.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She jolted up, heart leaping from the shock. Michael stood tall and looming at the foot of the bed. The door hadn’t opened. He must have transmuted here. The question of what he was doing here died on her lips.

That’s when she noticed the clothes, in particular, a series of black dress shirts, in the partially opened closet.

Her old room in the previous timeline was his room now. Madison had done it on fucking purpose.

Mallory quickly slid off the bed, offering a quiet, “Sorry.”

Eyes on the ground, she stepped toward the door, but he didn’t move out of her way. She glanced up to meet his intimidating gaze.

“I want to tell you a story, Mallory.” She barely held back a shiver, barely stopped herself from stepping back. He started off eloquently, “Once upon a time, there was a troubled young prince. He was confused and hurting the one closest to him.” His expression was glazed with reminisce. “One day, a beautiful princess with a golden crown rescued him from his situation… from himself. He never saw her again.” He broke through the fog, ice blue eyes piercing through her. He leaned forward, bringing his body uncomfortably close to hers. She could feel the waves of heat roll off him. “Until now.”

She stuttered, heart fluttering in her chest, “I- what are you talking about?” Under no circumstance could she reveal the truth. The unintended consequences could unravel everything. “I need to see Madison. She brought me to the wrong room. She was supposed to take me to mine.”

He leaned in until he was mere inches away to examine her more closely. “How old are you, exactly?”

Mallory moved to push past him, but he grabbed hold of her arm, yanking her back. The lightbulbs flashed and exploded in dramatic protest as the room shook. He released her in his surprise. He obviously hadn’t expected that demonstration in power. Michael watched her escape with enraptured interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand I want them to bang like rabbits like now, but on the other I want a slow burn hmmm
> 
> also song of the chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Prc1mHjnM_o


	3. Chapter 3

She felt like she was falling. Tripping forward, body tensed for the pain, but it never came. She was suddenly enveloped by a soft body. Her eyes squeezed closed, unwilling to see who her rescuer was. It was hot, too hot. Like someone turned the temperature too high and broke the thermostat. She could feel sweat break out across her body, little drops running down the nape of her neck. It made it hard to breathe.

“Mallory.”

Her neck craned up to look at his face. She knew it was him. The whole reason he was here was because of her. The conflict rose in her throat and threatened to choke her on the knowledge. His arms tightened around her. One hand caressed down her side to her leg, inching closer and closer to between her thighs. He whispered her name again. All she could do was pant in response. Her knees felt weak, unable to support her own weight, so she was glad he held her. Mesmerizing, his voice, his lips… his lips. His beautiful soft, perfectly shaped pink lips. They were coming closer, closer, close–

His face flashed white, cracked, demonic.

She woke up screaming, unable to gasp for air.

Her sheets were drenched with sweat. Hands shaking, she threw her tangled sheets off. Her legs slid over the edge of the bed as she tried to compose herself. The slick friction between her thighs alerted her to how wet she was. Her face fell into her hands with shame. She just had a wet dream about the literal antichrist.

What a nightmare.

In his room, Michael was smiling. His outstretched body took up most of the space on the bed, in contrast to how Mallory had looked in it earlier. He snuggled more into the pillow, inhaling her lingering scent deeper.

* * *

* * *

“I want to know more about this place,” Mallory started, shifting closer to Cordelia, “How did you become Supreme?”

Cordelia offered a soft, sad smile. “It had been difficult time. So much had happened, with my mother, witch hunters, and a war with the Voodoo Queen.”

“It must have been hard on Michael,” she carefully fished for information.

“Well, he was still a child, barely thirteen. I kept him in the dark for the most part. I did my damndest to keep my mother away from him. I didn’t want _any_ of Fiona’s influence on him. Michael has a good heart, even if…” Cordelia trailed off for a second before restarting with a broad smile, “I remember he cried so hard when he visited me in the hospital. He was so sweet when I’d gone blind, trying to do everything for me. For the longest time I thought I’d never be able to have children and then there he was, on my doorstep.”

The young witch was stunned into silence. This created more conflict in her heart. When she’d left baby Michael for Cordelia, she hadn’t imagined that Cordelia would _adopt_ him. Maybe she had done the right thing?

“Speak of the devil,” the Supreme chuckled, turning to the doorway.

He stood tall in a casual black suit, like a shadow. He smoothly apologized, “Sorry to interrupt but it was time for auntie Myrtle’s lesson for the new witches. That includes Mallory.”

She felt a flutter in her stomach at the sound of her name on his tongue. Cordelia nodded and with a smile, gently pushed her to go. Mallory almost stumbled into him, glancing up and down at his form. As she followed his lead, he quietly asked, “Why are you asking my mom about me?”

“You just happened to come up,” she lied, pointedly staring at her feet.

A smirk curved his tempting lips. “Did you sleep well last night?”

She had to stop herself from gasping. Of the countless powers he has, she didn’t know dream walking was one of them. Instead, she stood her ground. “Like a baby. You?”

“Best night in a long time.”

She didn’t get a chance to respond when Myrtle’s squawking interrupted. The older woman herded the group outside to the car, chastising their tardiness. “‘Fashionably late’ only applies to celebrities and royalty, of which, you are neither. Especially not when I have a lunch reservation at Latour that I absolutely will not miss on your behalf.” 

* * *

 

* * *

 

The stench of death and rot was overpowering. She thought she might feel differently after everything she’s experienced. What is one dead doe compared to a global apocalypse? If she fell to the compulsion, she’ll raise alarms and alert the coven, including Michael, to the extent of her true power. Yet here she is, overcome with the same emotion, the hard compassion and sympathy, as she had in her naivety.

She knelt gently onto the grass, hands outstretched over the carcass. Warmth flowed from deep in her heart out through her fingertips and radiated like white light over the doe. Time slowly trickled backwards, undoing death, undoing the harsh life this doe had lived. She thought of Michael, how she had done much the same for him when she’d reversed his age.

When she returned to herself, she looked over to a shocked Myrtle and the other new witches.

Michael watched her magic with an expression of awe. His earliest memories of her played before his eyes in parallel to this display.

 _What is she_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been a while, yeahhh, but idk I'm still figuring out the central plot. anyway feel free to throw ideas at me :]


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